


Dear Deidre...

by gemnoire



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemnoire/pseuds/gemnoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dear Deidre, I adore my boyfriend greatly, and normally our sex life is really quite spectacular but lately I am beginning to fear that our carnal relations have hit an unfortunate hitch."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Deidre...

**Author's Note:**

> This is complete and utter fluff with no redeeming features whatsoever. 
> 
> For non-Brits, Dear Deidre is the long-standing agony aunt column in The Sun, our trashiest and most popular tabloid. The general consensus is that most of the letter appearing in it are probably made up.

Eames was bored, thoroughly, resolutely, and possibly terminally bored. He'd given up trying to find anything of interest in the unchanging, grey and dull Belgian countryside out of the car window. Of course its pre-existing lack of appeal was hardly helped by the fact it was currently moving past at a crawl due to the rush hour traffic they'd inevitably gotten stuck in around Brussels and frankly what was the point of having a DB9 when you were spending 90% of your time at a standstill.   
  
This fact was of course was why he'd agreed to drive on the second half of the journey, once they'd hit the German _autobahns_ , despite the fact that meant driving half way through the night. The prospect was still infinitely preferably to this and he wasn't completely stupid.   
  
Even his usually favourite past-time of Arthur-baiting had lost much of its lustre after the first hour or so of threats against his person and, since the last time he'd fiddled with the radio the point man had made it clear that the next time he would, regretfully, be forced to kill him, there wasn't even music to keep him occupied.  
  
In fact, the only thing he had left of any sort of interest was the battered copy of The Sun he'd managed to pick up in the desolate and very poorly stocked service station they'd stopped in outside of Lille. Most of it was, of course, complete and utter trash, although Eames did end up chuckling with amusement somewhat at the thoroughly ridiculous letters in the Dear Deidre advice column.  
  
“What?” Arthur asked him eventually after several poorly smoother guffaws pierced the silence which had otherwise settled over the car, clearly pulling the point man out of what ever daydreams of no doubt mass automotive destruction he'd been occupying himself with during their slow crawl forward.  
  
“I worry sometimes for the future of humanity, truly I do. I mean listen to this particular sample of our youth,” Eames cleared his throat slightly and chose once of the more amusing candidates, “ _Dear Deidre, Please help, I don't know what to do. My boyfriend seems to be spending all his time lately with his male best friend instead of me and doesn't seem to want to have sex anymore. They're always doing things like wrestling and touching each other all the time. Last night I came in to them looking all flushed and panting. But there can't be anything going on because he swears he's not gay and that I'm just imagining it. Should I believe him? Yours, Confused._ Frankly if my girlfriend was that stupid, I'd probably be looking elsewhere too.”   
  
“Lucky for you I'm not then isn't it?” Arthur commented pointedly.  
  
“I've always said your brain was your best attribute,” Eames agreed happily before adding quickly, “along of course with your gorgeous good looks and seductively deadly abilities with a gun.”  
  
An amused, and somewhat affectionate, smile graced the point man's lips at that as he looked over “Glad to know you've been paying attention.”   
  
Eames smirked back, before, in a fit of inspiration, grabbed out a pad of paper and pen from the glove compartment and setting to work. At least this way he might have something to occupy him for the next four hours or so until it was his turn to take over.  
  
“Dare I ask what you're doing?” Arthur eventually asked after five minutes of scribbling, curiosity obviously winning out despite his better judgement, bereft as he was of anything else to occupy himself.   
  
“Writing my own Dear Deidre letter love, maybe she could help us with our current problem. What do you think so far? _Dear Deidre, I adore my boyfriend greatly, and normally our sex life is really quite spectacular but lately I am beginning to fear that our carnal relations have hit an unfortunate hitch.”_  
  
Arthur smirked, “Carnal relations? You sound like you swallowed a thesaurus not writing a letter to a tabloid agony aunt.”  
  
“I felt a little style needed to be added to the proceedings. Now where was I before I was so brutally interrupted, ah yes.. _It is not through a lack of interest, on either of our parts I can assure you, rather it appears to be the world conspiring against us to ensure that something happens every single time we attempt to engage in something beyond PG rated._ ”  
  
“I made a suggestion, you're the one who turned it down.” Arthur interjected mildly, a small smirk twitching his face.  
  
Oh yes, he'd certainly suggested something, the last time Eames had raised this particular sore point, sometime around when they'd started out on this journey. Still, “I can't believe you're the one suggesting we should have sex in the Aston Martin.”  
  
That was definitely an amused smirk which blossomed on other man's lips, “And I can't believe you're the one who's turning it down.”  
  
Eames considered it, he truly did, the temptation riding through him, but even he could bring himself to do it. “It's an Aston Martin DB9, it would be sacrilege. This car is a work of art, of pure style, and these seats are distinctly not wipe clean.” As he was speaking he noticed the smirk on the point man's face grow wider.   
  
Oh the bastard, “You never were going to let us have sex in the Aston Martin were you.”  
  
“Nope” Well of course not.  
  
“And of course Deidre, it doesn't help that my boyfriend seems to be have become a complete and utter tease.” He added pointedly, pouting at the other man as he did so. When he received an amused smirk in response he decided the most mature route was obviously just to ignore him and so continued with his original thread. " _It all started just over two months ago, when my dearest's work phone rang just as we were about to divest ourselves of our clothes and move our activities for the evening towards the bedroom._ ”  
  
“Dearest?” Arthur mouthed at him, a mocking smirk twitching the edges of his lips in the way it always did when he thought that Eames was being ridiculous.   
  
Eames blithely continued to ignore him. “ _Now my boyfriend is, tragically, a workaholic. Therefore, despite the fact I was at that point relieving him of his shirt, he just had to answer the phone. I know he can't help it, that it's an illness after all, but I admit that if I had known then what I know now, I would have probably destroyed the bloody thing and forced him to go cold turkey for his, and my, own good._ ”  
  
“Just because unlike some people I could mention I actually have a work ethic.” Arthur protested pointedly, never one to allow anyone to have the last word.  
  
Eames smiled sweetly at him in return, _“In fairness to my other half, who I suspect I may have been disparaging somewhat so far, the phone call was for a somewhat important, not to mention urgent, job offer and the clients in our line of work tend to have a distaste towards leaving answer-phone messages. Nonetheless, as you can imagine, by the time he did return to bed, the mood was thoroughly ruined and we decided to call it a night.  
  
Now, we are both healthy, secure, adults and take our careers with a considerable level of professionalism,”_ Eames ignored Arthur's soft _Well at least one of us does_ , barely missing a beat as he continued,“ _so this was hardly the first time this sort of thing had happened and neither of us thought anything of it.  
  
We left immediately the next morning, a 10am flight out of Manchester and both far too busy getting ready to engage in anything even remotely amorous. Although I will confess to my hands possibly wandering on occasion as we were getting ready. However, I'm afraid yet again, my boyfriend's terrible addiction to work reared it's ugly head and we made it to the airport unfortunately unmolested.”_  
  
“Need I point out we had forty-five minutes to do a journey which, on a good day, takes forty.” Arthur protested, before continuing slyly, “Unless you're trying to tell me that you only expected to last five minutes?”  
  
“Oh no love, I was thinking I could do things to _you_ which would have you undone in far less than that,” Eames leered at him salaciously, feeling a momentary stab of victory at the colouring of Arthur's cheeks at the comment and the subtle shifting in his seat.   
  
“Now if you'll allow me to continue, it is, after all, just starting to get interesting?” Eames gave him a look of pure innocence, as if he wasn't at all responsible for whatever dirty thoughts were currently running through his partner's mind. “ _I comforted myself through the flight with the knowledge that we would soon be sharing what would no doubt be a top class hotel room, only the best of course, for the better part of the month. Even when you travel as much for work as we do, there is something infinitely more romantic and risqué about hotel-room sex.  
  
Alas it was not to be, our respective tasks being such that whilst my dear partner was nice and smug in his posh hotel room, I was sent gallivanting off around in what was, not to put a too fine a point on it, the arse-end of nowhere following our 'subject of interest' as he seemed to determined to visit every single industrialised monstrosity of a city in the centre of China.  
  
I was, as I'm sure you can appreciate, becoming considerably less enamoured in this job by the day. When I finally made it back to share one last night in what was, as predicted, a truly five-star hotel room prior to the actual job, it was no little measure of enthusiasm that I, we in fact as I can assure you we were both suffering by that point, started making up for the lost time.  
  
I threw myself with gusto into the process of removing the many many layers of clothing that my boyfriend seems determined to cover his delightful, if not downright, sinful body in. A task which was taking considerably longer than it should have been due to the horrifically distracting way the man was, at that particular point, using his mouth on some of the more sensitive parts of my anatomy.”_  
  
“Strange,” Arthur interjected drily, “I don't recall you complaining too loudly at the time.”  
  
“Darling, I'd never complain about one of your blowjobs, but that is somewhat missing the point, since, as I was just getting to. _O_ _ur, let us call him, 'team leader' chose that moment to burst into the room to inform us that the subject had for some unfathomable reason changed schedule and the job was being brought forward several hours to, well, right that instant.  
  
I am not, I can assure you Deidre, a violent man, but at that instant it was particularly difficult for me to resist the urge to reach for my gun and just shot the man for the interruption. My boyfriend was far less restrained, and really if anyone tells you he's the one with self-control in this partnership they are very clearly lying, and actually did reach for his gun with positively murderous intentions.”_  
  
Eames paused briefly as a muttered “The man was an idiot anyway, I'd been looking for an excuse all month,” emerged from the drivers seat, before continuing smoothly  
  
“ _Thankfully for our prospects of_ getting paid _our 'team leader' had by that point beaten a hasty retreat out of the door after realising what he was interrupted. Thus leaving my dear, frustrated, partner without a target to shoot except yours truly, and thankfully things hadn't gotten quite to that stage of frustration yet.”_  
  
“The prospect did, and still does, however retain a certain temptation, especially if you continue to call me 'my dear'”  
  
“Whatever you say darling,” Eames smirked at the glare he was eliciting from the other man, he really did look quite gorgeous when annoyed.   
  
“ _Now I'm sure you are currently wondering why on earth we didn't just wait until_ after _the job was done to, let us say, reacquaint ourselves. Unfortunately our line of work means that once a job was complete there was always a necessity to split up so as to avoid the inevitable pursuit. It's an annoyance, but such is the life for high-flying international mind thieves.  
  
Nonetheless, to get around many of the small issues and stresses such a thing causes, the wondering if your partner has escaped safely, if they're still alive, if the mark is on to you and so on, we have made it a habit to meet up at the airport, discretely of course, to relieve some of the post-job, pre-flight tension._”   
  
He paused briefly in his monologue to glare meaningfully at the point man sitting next to him, who by now appeared to be mostly tuning him out to concentrate on the road, the traffic having cleared enough to allow them to push at least somewhere near the speed limit. “Of course the fact we have to do it in the airport bathrooms would be because _someone_ refuses to allow us to enjoy our membership of the mile high club.”  
  
Arthur snorted, “For that we'd have to be on the same plane.” He sent Eames a quick, sly, glance, “of course I'm not the one who almost put his back out the last time we tried it.”  
  
Eames choose to ignore this vicious slur against his athletic abilities.  
  
“ _This was something I was, as you can imagine, quite looking forward to, especially given the unfortunately hasty escape we needed to make that time. Of course, as I'm sure you could guess by now, the universe was not so kind to us. A downright tragic incident involving a taxi driver, the mark's thugs and a butchers shop meant that I made it to the airport somewhat later than anticipated. Not so late that I missed my dearest entirely,_ ” the latter endearment was added just to see the delightful tightening of the man in questions face. He did, after all, really look quite stunning when he was minutes away from violence.  
  
“ _No, no, that would be far too easy. Rather it was just late enough that just as we were about to engage in an act that would no doubt result in me finding it delightfully uncomfortable to sit for the entirety of my journey, when the final call came through for my other half's flight. Since the next call would no doubt involve echoing around the airport the fake name my boyfriend was travelling under, a level of attention we could ill-afford. Neither of us were, as you can imagine, best please by this turn of events and the subsequent flight ended up being for me far to uncomfortable for all the wrong reasons._ ”  
  
“I don't know what you're complaining about, you had plenty of time to jerk off before the flight. You try hiding a hard on whilst storing luggage in the overhead locker.” Eames smirked, despite appearences Arthur could be delightfully crude at times.  
  
 _”But our trials did not end there, oh no. For once I had returned to LA, after a week of particularly tiring travel and misdirection, my dear other half was waiting for me with the news that due to a babysitter issue and a delay in travel of their father, we were required to babysit for his goddaughter and her brother.”_  
  
Eames wasn't really surprised when he heard the point man swear under his breath at the reminder, “Cobb still fucking owes me for that one.”  
  
“You know for a cold bastard, you really are quite a push over when it comes to those kids.” Despite the words, Eames tone was affectionate, it really was rather sweat after all even if the thought that Arthur might desire sproglings of his own filled him with dread.  
  
Arthur grimaced briefly, “Don't remind me.”   
  
Judging from the point man's expression, Eames fears were probably unfounded, so with a lighter heart he continued, _“Now, don't get me wrong, I adore the munchkins thoroughly, in very small doses, and under most circumstances would be more than happy to help out and babysit for a day or two. But this was, as I'm sure you can appreciate by now, hardly ordinary circumstances. To make matters worse, my other half has a very strict rule about no sex whilst under the same roof as the children, even after they should, by all rights, have gone to bed. A rule, I will admit, which may have some justification after the unfortunate incident the last time I persuaded him to break it.”_  
  
“The rules are there for a reason,” and no, Arthur didn't sound at all smug then, of course not.   
  
“Something I have come to appreciate I assure you. I swear if the rugrats ever come to stay with us again, we're getting locks fitted to the bedroom door.” The possibility wasn't all that far-fetched, despite Eames' dread at the thought of having his own, there was something quite nice about playing the 'cool uncle' to Cobb's kids. Of course the joy about someone else's kids was that after a week or so of spoiling them rotten and taking them to the zoo and the park and so on, or was that just using them an excuse to drag Arthur to those locations, you could then hand them back. It was win-win really.  
  
“Ahem, where was I. Ah yes. _If you have been paying attention to my tale, I'm sure you can appreciate that it had, by this point, been a month and exactly 9 days since we'd last been able to actually have sex. To say that I was starting to get a bit frustrated would be an understatement.  
  
However, I am nothing if not a romantic soul at heart, and given that we were both ravenous once we'd gotten home from dropping the kids off, rather than just pouncing upon that gorgeous arse right away, I decided the appropriate thing would be to make a nice dinner for two and then proceed to fuck him senseless.  
  
It was a good plan, a great plan even, apart from the fact that my legendary chilli, with its very secret ingredient also happened to be poisonous for the poor thing. Not, I will point out, my fault, it's not like he'd told me he had an allergy to chocolate!_”  
  
“Why else did you think I always turned them down?.”Arthur enquired pointedly as if it was Eames' job to keep a track of what he did and didn't like to eat.   
  
The forger couldn't help but smirk back, because really the opening was far too easy, “I thought you may be trying to keep that oh so wonderful girlish figure of yours.”  
  
“Prick,” Arthur responded with no a small measure of exasperated affection.  
  
“Love you too, darling,” Eames blew him a mocking kiss.  
  
The words hung there for a few moments after they'd been said, as if both were trying to process them. The verbalisation of what lay between them which they neither acknowledged nor talked about yet which consistently drew them to each other like moths to a flame  
  
In a desperate attempt to break the awkwardness, to laugh it off he continued with his monologue, “ _Still by the next day he had recovered from the unfortunate incident and since we were both feeling, shall we say, frisky, we choose to spend the morning in bed. Finally, I am sure you are saying, after all what more could go wrong. What indeed?  
  
Now one of the more troublesome elements of being on US government's most wanted list is the unfortunate tendency for the FBI to turn up at the most unfortunate times and attempt to arrest you in the most inconsiderate manner possible. Their sense of timing, usually inconvenient at best, was downright scandalous on this particular morning, since I was at that point in the middle of receiving one of my boyfriend's spectacular blowjobs. We managed to escape of course, thanks in no small part to the paranoid warning systems and multitudes of escape plans that my dearest insists of putting into place for each and every one of our abodes.”_   
  
Eames paused for a moment to allow Arthur to interject but instead the point man just took a moment to look over to him, arching an eyebrow in a clear _And aren't you fucking glad I did_ look before turning back to the road.   
  
_”I will not bore you with the details of our flight, but needless to say it was necessary for us to separate for a small time, lying low in our respective safehouses in locations I cannot divulge for security reasons. Finally, the incredibly tiresome FBI lost interest long enough that I could realistically fly out of the country, albeit via North of the border, so I proceeded to Paris. We had already had a meeting with the client lined up there, albeit not for another two weeks, so the change in locations was far from inconvenient. Of course it was helped that France had wonderfully complicated extradition laws, and I have always had a small fondness for the city, even if it is filled with Parisians.  
  
Alas even in Paris, city of romance though it is, our trials did not end.  
  
Barely had we been reunited an hour than one of our friends, and sometimes colleague decided to drop in on us, though how she knew we were back in the city I will never know. And don't get me wrong, she's a lovely girl, studying architecture in the City, although she does have an unfortunate infatuation with my other half.”_  
  
Arthur rolled his eyes, “You're being over-dramatic as usual.”  
  
“Really, Arthur. I've seen the way she looks at you, it's positively scandalous.” Not of course that Arthur would have noticed, he could at times be truly oblivious to the effect he had on people.   
  
“No, that's how _you_ look at me.” Or maybe not.  
  
“And who could blame me, or her for that matter, you are after all a thoroughly enticing sight.” Especially now, with dressed in more casual clothes, slightly rumpled from the journey, hair starting to fall in his eyes. Eames could feel himself getting hot just looking at him, although that could have something to do with the two fucking month dry-spell they seemed trapped in the middle of.   
  
“Ahem, _Now don't get me wrong Deidre, I'm not jealous, if anything I feel sorry for the poor thing. I am, after all, more than confident that, since my other half is gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide,_ ” that particular expression gained him a raised eyebrow, probably wondering where he got off stealing lines from Terry Pratchett, or Neil Gaiman, but most likely Pratchett, _“he's unlikely to be returning her feelings any time soon. This does not, of course, mean that I was particularly happy to see her when I was preparing to thoroughly ravish him as I had been so far unable to do for the past month and a half.  
  
It did not help that rather than agreeing with me, the traitorous tease decided that yes, he did want to go out to dinner with her to catch up, and yes, I would be going too. He really did take far too much amusement over the fact that our public location meant I had to keep my hands to myself, at least in theory. Although, I will point out, lest you think this frustration is one-sided, that he did turn a lovely shade of pink when I used my feet in just the right way under the table.”_  
  
“How have I not killed you yet?” Arthur mutter drily under his breath, and yes, he was going exactly that same shade of pink at the memory. Eames considered that a job well done.   
  
“It's one of the great mysteries of the universe love, truly.” Eames smiled beatifically, barely missing a beat of his magnum opus, _“To make matters worse, we returned home to find our chemist friend standing outside our door looking somewhat singed and clutching a bedraggled looking cat. I will admit, I was somewhat surprised, not so much that he'd turned up after having no doubt burnt down whatever workshop he was using this week, that had after all been a common occurrence when we lived close enough that I was the most convenient spare sofa to sleep on, but rather than he was in Paris at all.”_  
  
“Why the hell was Yusuf in Paris anyway?” Arthur demanded archly.  
  
The question was, of course, rhetorical since the point man had almost certainly researched the issue thoroughly. “You know if you keep interrupting I'm never going to finish this.”  
  
Arthur, predictably smirked, “Take it as a sign to stop trying.”  
  
“Ah, but persistence is my middle name.” It almost was as well, despite the disbelieving snort of amusement from the man next to him. His maternal grandfather had been on a puritan naming spree at the time of his birth, one of his cousins had come away with Chastity and another Fortitude, luckily Mother put her foot down and he'd actually ended up with the very ordinary Daniel Godfrey Lewis to add to the James and the Eames.  
  
“ _It took two days to get rid of him, them really, during which, you will be unsurprised to hear, my beloved was far from sympathetic. In fact he was getting rather pointed in his comments about the fact the we were all, by now, rich enough to be able to afford hotels, and even bribe the staff to allow for the residence of additional felines should it be needed. I'll admit he was right on this point and I was myself, by the end, ready to bodily throw the man out. Although not the cat. The cat we would keep as compensation. Luckily for his continued moggy ownership, he left of his own volition before this became necessary.  
  
The next part of this travesty, and yes my tale is still not over, was somewhat my fault. You see the unfortunate thing about being filthily rich from highly illegitimate, not to mention illegal, sources is that accessing the money is at times quite difficult, especially when certain of your identities were clearly compromised. So I'd needed to call in a few favours to get to Paris. Nothing I couldn't of course pay off with ease, but ones with a distinct deadline set. So it was that when we were just getting into enjoying the time we finally had alone, cat and friend free, that the reminder of this oh so important meeting came up.” _  
  
“Seriously, you couldn't have come up with something better than the fucking Russian mafia,” the tone was derisive, but Eames could detect the worry underlying the point man's words. After all, the Russian mob were hardly the most reliable of business partners and the last time the forger had dealt with them bullet wounds may have been involved.  
  
“I was somewhat out of options at the time, since unlike some people, I was actually naked when the nasty armed men burst into your apartment.” Well, mostly naked, but the point remained.  
  
“ _My_ apartment?” Arthur's voice was pointed and Eames knew without looking that there was an arched eyebrow in there somewhere.  
  
“It is when the rossers know about it, yes,” he smirked back. “Now, if you'll allow me to get on with our tale of woe. _Still, it was unavoidable and in any case the meeting itself should have taken an hour at most, with accompanying distinct, and very important advantage, of ensuring I remained with all my limbs attached. Alas, it appears that although the Russian mob are far from forgiving of tardiness among their clients, their own punctuality left a lot to be desired and the one hour meeting, including travel time, which I was expected soon mutated into eight long hours of tedium and boredom. Whoever tells you that spending a day in a sex shop is interesting is clearly lying.  
  
Eventually, I made it back to my love, in the true and honest hope to finally, finally, enjoy a night alone, uninterrupted. You can I'm sure imagine given the tenor of the rest of my story this was not to be. For once I get home, what do I find but my other half packing in some haste, informing me that our client, in a fit of complete paranoia had shifted our meeting to the next morning and its location to Berlin. Furthermore insisted that we travel by car due to the unfortunate legal attentions we had gained. If the accompanying figure to this particular job wasn't closing in on seven digits, I may have been tempted to tell them to stuff it. But as it was we bundled ourselves into the car, the distance being such that it did not, apparently, even leave us time for a quickie, although I remain unconvinced of this fact.  
  
Which is how, Deirdre, we find ourselves driving along the _autobahn _during the dead of night to get to a business meeting, having spent close to two months without sex. Two. Whole. Months._  
  
I'm going out of my mind, please help.  
  
Yours  
Frustrated in an Aston Martin.”  
  
He finished the sentence off with a flourish and looked up expectantly to find Arthur staring straight ahead with an indecipherable expression on his face. Suddenly the point man swerved the wheel crossing over three lanes of traffic to come off at a service station.  
  
Eames barely had time to open his mouth before the point man pounced on him, attempting, it seemed, to suck his very soul out through his mouth in his haste to ravish him.  
  
When they finally pulled back for air, Eames managed to gasp out, “Not that I'm complaining, but I thought we'd already agreed not to have sex in the Martin.” Because really, if they were going break that agreement, and frankly at this point he could be convinced, they could have done it hours back.   
  
Arthur stared at him intently looking for all the world like he was trying to decide whether to fuck him or kill him, before gesturing with his head towards the run down neon sign just visible on the other side of the service station parking lot. “Hotel, now.”  
  
Eames smirked wider, it wasn't often he managed to reduce Arthur down to near speechlessness just with words, but then again this was hardly ordinary circumstances. “Wha...” well it appeared Arthur wasn't the only one loosing the ability to speak. He tried again, “What about the client? Important meeting in the morning, remember.”   
  
“Fuck the client, he can wait, paranoid asshole.” The point man responded viciously, already getting out of the car.   
  
Frankly, Eames couldn't agree more.


End file.
